by Edith Pattou
* * *
We began our journey up the Glacier des Bois. Ben told us stories of ice giants who had built this roadway, though he himself didn’t believe in such things. He did however believe the tales of ice dragons living at the highest reaches of Mont Blanc because he himself had seen strange things in the skies above it.
“What sort of strange things?” I asked.
Ben shook his head and said it had almost looked like shimmers of fire.
“The northern lights?” I asked.
Ben shook his head again. “No,” he said. “We’re too far south here. And, I would swear I saw something flying high in the sky. It was too large and bulky to be a bird. There isn’t much I’m afraid of,” Ben went on, “but dragons . . . No, I don’t like dragons. Which is why I leave you at Mont Maudit.”
He cast an appraising glance at our swords. “Perhaps you are wise to bring them, after all.”
The walking was smooth at times, arduous at others, especially when large columns of ice thrust up into our path. Ben called them seracs, and they oftentimes bordered deep crevasses that had to be jumped across. We came to one crevasse that was too wide for jumping, and we had to make a long detour around it.
As we walked, Ben kept up a nonstop stream of chatter. He clearly wanted to educate us about this beautiful and dangerous world of the Alpes. He told us the mountains were inhabited by bears, ibex, and wolves but that once we hit the tree line, we would see only a few birds, like snow finches and golden eagles, and an occasional ibex.
He warned us of the dramatic changes in weather we were likely to encounter; a sunny day could transform to low clouds and then to a blizzard of snow or hail in a matter of minutes.
“It does not matter how good a climber you are,” he said with a menacing glare at us. “You can never tell when a lightning storm will come. An avalanche fall. A blizzard sweep through. You cannot master these mountains. They will master you.”
The higher we got on the Glacier des Bois, the more treacherous it became. Lower down, the crevasses were visible, but higher up, the snow didn’t melt, so they were hidden under layers of snow. We had to move slowly, testing the ground ahead with our metal-tipped walking sticks.
The landscape was similar in some ways to the land of ice and snow I had journeyed through before reaching Niflheim—the wind-sculpted ice, the blue of the sky, the sparkling surface of the snow when it was lit by the sun. But the air in the mountains was thinner, and the higher we got, the more labored my breathing became. Looking up at the looming peak of Mont Blanc, still far above us, I wondered how I would be able to breathe at all once we reached it.
We arrived at the crest of the Glacier des Bois just as the sun was hovering at the top of the ridge of mountains ahead. An immense field of snow lay before us.
Ben said this was where we would stop and make camp for the night.
Estelle
THINKING ABOUT ROSE MADE ME HOMESICK, and I missed her very much, but it also made me feel braver. I had decided that I would try to be like Rose, that I would think about what she would do if she were in this situation.
And of course what she would do is try to escape from the trolls.
But first I needed to figure out where we were. I had tried the door once, and it had been locked. And the window was high, too high to see out of. But maybe, I thought, if I try standing on Winn’s cradle, I’ll be tall enough.
He was napping, so I gently lifted him out of the cradle, taking care not to wake him. I crossed the room and laid him on my bed, surrounding him with soft pillows.
I went back to the cradle, dragged it under the window, and gingerly stepped onto the mattress. The cradle swung from side to side on its rockers, but I steadied myself and stood on my tiptoes. I was just high enough.
At first I didn’t know what I was looking at. There was white, only white, as far as I could see. My first thought was that I was in Gronland or up in the Arktisk. Or maybe even Niflheim.
But then I realized how high up I was. And that all those white shapes were mountains, very large mountains, bigger than any in Njord. From the look of it, I was on the tallest peak.
The beauty of it took my breath away. But I also felt very small. And frightened.
Even if I could somehow escape this room with Winn, how would I ever be able to climb down this mountain? And journey through all those other pinnacles of white?
It seemed impossible.
I stepped out of the cradle, pulled it back to its place, went to the bed, and sat beside the sleeping bairn. I almost cried, but told myself that Rose wouldn’t cry.
And I must be brave like Rose.
Rose
THE SNOW FIELDS WERE DOTTED with gnarled dwarf pines, and we set up camp near a small grouping of them.
Ben shared with us his favorite food for mountain trekking, small white round cakes of cheese called reblochon. He told us they were rich in fat since they came from the second milking of the cow.
“The wind is changing,” said Ben, his head cocked to the side as he passed Charles a second reblochon. “Pip doesn’t like this wind. It is called foehn, blows from north to south and can cause whirlwinds. I don’t think this one will. But foehn makes Pip uneasy.”
I wondered if Sib was familiar with foehn. I tried listening to the wind, to its music. I could just make out a faint humming and, like Pip, found myself feeling a little jittery. Charles reached out to scratch Pip’s ears, which seemed to calm him.
“Foehn often comes before a blizzard,” Ben said, and he went on to tell us what to do if we were caught in a blizzard. It was similar to what Malmo and I did in the blizzard we encountered in Gronland, so my thoughts wandered. But I did snap back to attention when he brought up avalanches.
“Have either of you ever been caught in one?” he asked us.
Charles opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. I wondered if he had had memories of an avalanche as a white bear, but realized how impossible that would be to explain.
“I haven’t,” I said, “but have heard about them. They are not uncommon in the higher mountains in Njord.”
“They happen here often,” Ben said, “and you need to be prepared. I will tell you how to live if you are caught in an avalanche. Pay attention. First, do you know how to swim?” he asked unexpectedly.
Charles and I both nodded.
“When you feel the rumble of an approaching avalanche, you must try to stay high and above it. Use your arms and legs to swim up to the top if possible,” Ben said.
He gave a list of other tips on what to do to survive.
Pip became restive, even with Charles’s attention, and began to whine.
“Come,” said Ben, standing. “Best we move on. Pip and I don’t like this wind.”
Estelle
SINCE I HAD STOPPED DRINKING the sweet, milky slank, I wasn’t as tired and could think more clearly. At first the troll woman seemed displeased that I’d stopped drinking it, but she brought me apple cider instead, and there were always a jug of water and a glass left on the table.
I figured out that the troll woman came to the room two times a day, once in the morning and once at night, to change and feed Winn and to bring me meals. She also changed the chamber pot I had found by the bed, and once she brought me hot water, soap, and towels so I could bathe in the copper tub that sat in a corner of the room.
There was a closet in the room, and in it was a change of clothing for me. The clothing I’d been wearing when I was brought here had been washed and was hanging in there too.
It was hard to tell the time of day, except by the darkness of the room at night and by the troll woman’s visits.
One evening she brought a beef and carrot stew, and I ate while she changed Winn’s cloths. This was a part of being with the trolls I did not mind, since I had never liked that malodorant task.
I was surprised to see her sprinkle a fine, almost silvery, powder on Winn’s bottom before wrapping it up in the soft white cloths.
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She fed him using the glass cup with the teat. I could see her face clearly and realized I had been right before. She looked down at Winn with a nice expression as he ate, almost as if she was fond of him.
“Are you Urda?” I asked suddenly.
She jumped a little, and looked over at me severely. Shifting her position, she deliberately turned her back on me.
“I think you are,” I said. “Rose told me about you and your son, Tuki.”
Her back stiffened when I said “Tuki,” but I went on.
“Rose told me how much she loved your son. She had un coeur brisé over his death, very sad. When they couldn’t make up their minds about what they were going to name the bébé, she said their first choice had been Tuki, but I said he was like the west wind, so they called him Winn.”
The troll woman had turned around and was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read, but it was enough to stop me from talking.
She stared at me for a few more moments, then looked down at Winn, her eyes full of tenderness. “Tuki,” I thought I heard her whisper.
“You are Urda!” I said.
She ignored me. Winn had finished feeding, so she put him over her shoulder and gently patted his back. A little burp came out, and I could see Urda smile.
She put Winn back in the cradle, laid the soft white blanket over him, and left.
Rose
WE WERE IN OUR THIRD DAY of climbing when Ben told us we’d be coming to Mont Maudit by the end of the day and he would be leaving us there.
“You should be able to reach the base of Mont Blanc in another half day,” he said.
“Has anyone ever scaled Mont Blanc?” Charles asked, his gaze directed at the gleaming spire of the mountain.
“Not as far as I know,” Ben replied. He glared at us, then went on. “But fools will always try. Like our king a hundred years ago, who made it a royal dictum that the Aiguille du Dru should be conquered, for the honor of Fransk. As if honor comes from taking needless risks. The Dru is not as tall a mountain as Mont Blanc, but it is equally unscalable, perhaps more so, with a sheer face. It lies that way.” He pointed in a southeasterly direction. “Of course our esteemed king didn’t climb the Dru himself, but ordered his chamberlain to do it for him.” He shook his head. “Such a foolish waste of resources from a foolish leader.”
“What king was this?” Charles asked abruptly.
“Charles VII,” said Ben.
I watched Charles’s face as he took in the meaning of Ben’s words. He abruptly rose and, calling Pip to him, walked a distance off.
“What is wrong with him?” asked Ben.
“I’m not sure,” I said slowly, “but it is possible he is wondering about King Charles VII, what kind of man he truly was.”
Estelle
IT WAS THE NIGHTTIME, and I woke up. I didn’t usually wake up when it was dark in the room, and I wondered why I did this time. Then I noticed a faint light. It was coming from the direction of Winn’s cradle.
I peered closely. It looked like there was a figure standing by the cradle. No, it seemed to be two figures. One was holding a lamp, and the other was holding something larger, something that gleamed gold in the lamplight. Maybe I am dreaming, I thought. The one with the lamp handed it to the other, and as she did, I saw it was Urda and I knew I was awake.
Urda leaned down and lifted Winn out of the cradle.
She laid him in the gold thing, which I could see now was a basket or bassinette. She took back the lamp, and the two of them turned toward me.
In the lamplight I could clearly see the other’s face. She was a troll woman, and she was beautiful, or would have been beautiful if it weren’t for the long, deep scar down one side of her face. She had green eyes and very white ridged skin like Urda. She didn’t look in my direction, but carried the gold bassinette to the door.
Urda did look over at me, and I think she saw that my eyes were open. She shook her head at me and moved to open the door for the beautiful woman.
I came wide awake. They were taking Winn away! I jumped up and started to run toward them, but I was too late. Urda swiftly closed the door behind them, and I could hear the key turning in the lock.
I cried out and pounded on the door. “Winn!” I screamed. “Bring him back. Winn!”
White Bear
MY MIND REELED. Charles VII would most likely have been my brother. A younger brother, or perhaps a cousin. Who would have been born after I had “died,” or rather, after a shape-shifted troll died in my place.
After I was kidnapped by the Troll Queen.
My head was pounding, and I feared that I would have another of those dizzying, color-bursting episodes. I hadn’t had one in a while and was hopeful I was done with them.
But it swept over me that if I had not been stolen by the Troll Queen, I would have grown up to be king of Fransk. Not this Charles VII, who drew scorn from a mountain man in the Alpes one hundred fifty years later.
What kind of person had he truly been, this brother or cousin or whoever he was? And what kind of person was I? A king? Hardly. I barely had command over myself. I couldn’t imagine being fit to lead a country.
Colors began popping behind my eyes. I couldn’t do this anymore. Keep trudging forward through this forgotten life of mine.
I felt someone beside me. The lady Nyamh.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I am not.”
There was sympathy in her eyes. Kindness.
“I do not know who I am,” I said helplessly.
“You are a father,” she said.
And she was right. I remembered my son, holding him in my arms.
“And I play the flauto,” I said.
She nodded.
The heaving in my mind began to subside. And Nyamh took my arm and gently led me back to where Ben was waiting.
Estelle
I DIDN’T SLEEP THE REST OF THE NIGHT, but paced around the room, sometimes crying, sometimes pounding on the door. Where had they taken Winn? Would they bring him back? What were they doing to him?
Hours went by.
It was early morning when suddenly the door opened and Urda entered.
She was alone, and she was carrying Winn in her arms.
I cried out and ran to them.
Urda raised a warning hand, not wanting me to wake the bairn, who was fast asleep.
Silently I watched as she laid Winn in his cradle.
“Where did you take him? What did the beautiful troll woman do to him?”
Urda just glared at me. Turning back to Winn, she straightened his blankets.
“Was she the Troll Queen?” I blurted out. “Did she hurt him? Did she hurt Winn?” I grabbed Urda’s arm.
She shook me off, looking flustered, and abruptly left the room. I didn’t hear the key turn in the lock.
I gazed down at Winn, who looked just as he always did, sleeping peacefully, a fist pressed against his rosy cheek. I thought to myself that I should seize the opportunity and try to explore this place where Winn and I were prisoners. If I were Rose, I would.
I hesitated, feeling scared. Maybe I shouldn’t leave Winn alone, I thought, in case he wakes up. But I knew I was just making excuses.
So I made myself slip out the door, leaving it open a crack so I could dart back in quickly if I needed to.
I found myself in a hallway lit by lamps. It was grand, much grander than my plain white room. The walls were covered in a velvety gold fabric, and the fixtures holding the oil lamps were a gleaming gold. I listened closely, but all I could hear was the faint guttering of the flames in the lamps. Silently I walked down the hallway toward a closed door at the end of it. When I got there, I slowly turned the knob and discovered that it too was not locked. Cautiously I opened it.
I entered a circular room with a high ceiling like my room but with no windows because it was lined with books from bottom to top. I would have liked to stop and look, but knew I should keep explor
ing. There was a door at the opposite end of the room, so I crossed to it and cautiously went through, discovering a spiral staircase that led down.
I started descending the staircase, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to get too far away from my room. At the bottom was another hallway, and I inched my way forward, listening intently for any sign of life. At the end were two doors. I pressed my ear against one and thought I could hear faint, far-off sounds, but when I tried the other, there was only silence. I opened this door and stepped through. I drew in my breath sharply.
I was in a huge, beautiful room, at least two or three stories high, and it was filled with so much gold and sunlight that it hurt my eyes. At the top, the walls were lined with large windows, which let in the sun. Enormous gold-hued tapestries hung from the walls underneath the windows.
There was a chair at one end that was made entirely of gold and inlaid with glittery precious stones. This must be a throne room, I thought.
My eye was drawn to a table in the center of the room. I edged closer, staying alert to any possible noise, and discovered it was an echecs set. It was very large and very grand; the pieces on one side were made of white marble, and on the other, black. The carving of the pieces looked like the carving on the slats of Winn’s cradle.
Then I heard the faraway sound of a door shutting. I turned and ran. I didn’t pause until I was back in my white room. I pulled the door shut and stood there, breathing hard.
I crossed to Winn, who was awake. He smiled at me, and I picked him up, holding him close, my heart still racing. I looked into his face.
